


Desecrated Soul

by WizardsGirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha pack feels, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And technically the badguy in this, Derek is a Failwolf, Deucalion is kinda a creeper but means well?, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt Stiles, I haven't slept all night, Kinda, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Peter Called the Alpha Pack, Recovery, Rehabilitation, Seizures, Slow Burn, Souls, Stiles Needs a Hug, Trauma, Werewolf Culture - Freeform, Wolfy Cuddling, Wolfy Magic induced coma, idk what else..., ooc, werewolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardsGirl/pseuds/WizardsGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was never meant to be the Alpha. It was always supposed to be Laura. Because of this, he was never taught the in-depth knowledge all Alphas need to know. Because of this, he doesn't know that death is more merciful a fate to any wolf than to be cut away from the Pack. Stiles pays the price for his lack of knowledge, and Deucalion is nothing if not an opportunist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sacrilege

**Author's Note:**

> Random PlotBunny while studying for my Advanced Medical Test. Enjoy?

“Get out.” Stiles blinked up at Derek's cold mien from his seat on the floor, gaping.

“What?” He asked; the Werewolf didn't so much as twitch, green-gray eyes serious as they stared icily at the sprawled teenager from beneath darkly glowering brows.

“Get. Out.” he man said, a hint of a growl curling beneath the words. “You should never have been involved with this. You're not a Wolf, and you're _not_ _Pack_. You're a hindrance, a _human_ , too fragile and practically worthless when it comes to _anything_. You've no place here; you'll only end up dead, or getting my Pack killed when they try to help your spastic ass. Get out, Stilinski, and don't come back. Don't contact any of my Pack. Don't search any of us out. _Don't._ ”

Derek's words weren't just for show. They weren't just the usual bullshit insults and cruelty that occasionally fell from the Alpha onto Stiles, something that was just empty words and frustration. No, these words, these _orders_ , were different. Stiles could _feel_ the Alpha's orders rippling through his _bones_ , sinking into him like the cruel, vicious claws they were. And, staring into those harsh, beautiful eyes, Stiles felt something in his chest _break_ , and the hollowness that was left behind rose up to choke him for a moment. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, eyes never leaving Derek's, before he finally looked away in order to gather up all his things and turn towards the front door, passing the silent forms of the Beta's, and ignored the averted eyes and hunched shoulders, mind numb and something cold curdling in his stomach, seeping outwards like some conniving little spider, sinking it's fangs in every few skittering steps.

“Fuck you,” Stiles managed to whisper through quickly-numbing lips, and he closed the door behind him, just barely managing to silence the whimper of pain that swarmed upward from that hollow space in his chest, at the _finality_ that sang through the air as the door closed.

Desperately, he wanted to rip the door open, to beg for Derek to take it back, to take _him_ back. He would _crawl_ to the Alpha, if it meant he would say the words that would stop the horrible hollowness in his chest, which was slowly, but surely, turning into a building agony that Stiles was certain would kill him, and not quickly either... But, Derek's orders pushed him away from the door, feet dragging to his Jeep, until he found himself suddenly driving away, towards his Dad's house, more his than his Dad's since his father had begun drinking again and avoiding him like he was a worthless disappointment.

The hollowness in his chest _pulsed_ , and Stiles choked on the wave of pain that had him stopping the car momentarily, just so he could re-learn how to _breathe_. Once it had settled, Stiles took shallow, stuttering breathes, wiped the tears and drool from his face, and carefully continued driving, far slower than he would have under any other circumstances. When he finally pulled into the empty driveway, he could have wept in relief. Instead, he dragged himself and his things from the car, up the steps, and into the house, the building pain in his chest forcing him into a hunch, his body moving in small shuffle and stuttering steps. He nearly fell down the stairs and, after a few more failing attempts at making it up to his room, he shuffled his way to the empty guest room/storage room on the first floor, the smell of moth balls and stale air curling through his pain-drunk senses as he weakly pushed random things off of the bed.

Moving ever-so-slowly, he pulled himself onto the bed, curling up on top of the blankets and head on the stiff, mildew-scented pillow, and curled into a ball, starting to shiver as pain and numbness fought for control of his body.

With a choked sob of relief, he passed out, welcoming the darkness which cut away the pain and cold and hollow place in his chest.

He wondered if it made him weak, to wish that he never woke up…

Time passed, too much to be normal, with only brief flashes of awareness, thoroughly smothered by _painpainpainpainPAIN_ that was all he knew… Well, not _all_ he knew. There was _afraid_ and _empty_ and _lost_ and _alone_ and _betrayed_ and _grief_ which echoed inside the consuming pain, small paper cuts that just made the gaping wound more painful, made his soul bleed that little bit more. He thought he heard his Dad calling his name at some point, caught the brief smell of disinfectant which would always mean _hospital_ to him, and heard a constant, steady beeping that didn’t make any sense.

None of it mattered, though, because the pain burned it all away, and he wondered if this was what Peter Hale had felt, when Crazy-Kate had set him on fire… And when Stiles had done it again, when the traumatized man was the insane Alpha. A new paper cut joined the mass, this one leaking steady streams of _regret_ , holding within it the festering agony of _knowing_ he had caused something like this in someone already broken.

More time, more pain, more voices, brief glimpses of what looked like a hospital room. Nothing comforting, nothing calming, nothing that made the agony in his soul diminish nothing-

_(Pack)_

-that made him even _want_ to stay awake.

But, one day, he found himself unable to go back into the serene safety of unconsciousness, and found himself staring blankly at the ceiling, listening to the constant beeping of the heart-monitor as the blistering agony he’d finally assimilated to roiled beneath his skin. He felt something to the side of him, something that brushed against the edge of the pain, something warm and comforting. _Safe_ , it whispered.

 _Power, understanding, curiosity, anger, protection_.

Slowly, shivers of excruciating pain lashing his senses as he did so, Stiles turned his head on the soft pillow, pulling slightly at the oxygen tubes in his nose as he stared at the man sitting in the visitors chair next to him. A man, a _Werewolf_ , was there, sunglasses perched on his nose as he leaned forward on his cane, chin resting on his crossed hands, face serious and calm. He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties, and handsome, with dark hair and a light five o’clock shadow curling around his sharp jaw.

“He did a number on you, didn’t he,” the man murmured quietly, English accent shifting in the back of the words. Stiles took a slow, deep breath as the pain grew claws and began to knead the shredded remains of his being. “He was never meant to be an Alpha, you know,” the Werewolf continued casually. “He never learned all the aspects of an Alpha, the power and responsibility in it. It’s not all fighting and controlling. Its _protection_ , and caring and healing. And it’s _knowledge_. Because he was never meant to be an Alpha, he knows _nothing_ of Severing Pack Bonds.” As he spoke, the man leaned forward now, moving partially onto the hospital bed, and running his nose gently against Stiles cheek, scenting him softly while Stiles followed him with dull, pain-darkened eyes.

“To sever a Pack Bond, is to rip away a part of the Wolf’s soul,” the stranger murmured softly, hand coming up to gently drag through Stiles slightly-greasy hair, which was longer than it had been when he’d gone to ‘sleep’. “Omega’s aren’t Severed, they’re runaways. Severed Wolves will often have to be put down, the damage to their being driving them insane. It’s because a Werewolf has a dual soul, two souls mended together beneath the power of the Moon, Herself. It is almost a sacrilege to Sever a Pack Bond. A Wolf is sooner killed than Severed, and it has _never_ been done to a human Packmate…” He moved, and, suddenly, fire-red eyes were glowing over the top of the sunglasses as the _Alpha_ rested his forehead against Stiles, sharing the same air as the two simply stared at one another for countless moments.

“You should be dead,” he murmured finally, and Stiles gave a slow blink as the pain was forced down a bit more by the Alpha’s… _Aura_ , was the only word he could think of. “It would have been a mercy, to end you, instead of leaving you here like this,” the Wolf continued, hand lifting to stroke Stiles face gently, and Stiles pressed against the Alpha, body seeking comfort weakly, muscles straining from the sudden movement after so long. “That was what I was deciding to do, you know,” he continued quietly, breath hot against Stiles cold, numb mouth. “Peter Hale called me, and informed me of what his foolish nephew had done, and I could not, honestly, believe that such a thing had happened. That a Hale had actually _Severed_ the very human who, if Peter is to be believed, has kept Derek and his pups alive. And then I found you here, and have seen that he had. I was going to make it quick,” he whispered, glowing red eyes never blinking. “But, then you opened your eyes, and turned to me, and I saw that you are still _aware_ , though you are, perhaps irrevocably, damaged. You didn’t react to _me_ , however, but to an Alpha.” He turned his head, rubbing his cheek firmly against Stiles face, and some more of the pain pulled back, as Stiles recognized the action of scent marking, of _claiming_ , and a soft whisper of a whimper escaped him, eyes becoming a little more alive, edged with something desperate now as the pain spiked sporadically.

“You don’t want to die,” the strange Alpha murmured, eyes glowing even brighter and fangs growing in his mouth. His tongue curled out, licking up Stiles neck, which he weakly but willingly bared. “You want _Pack_ ,” the Wolf growled, and another whimper escaped Stiles as the Alpha rose over him, glasses gone, having fallen off during his actions. “You’d be welcome with us, pup,” he growled, rubbing their noses together softly. “You could come into our Pack.” Stiles breath hitched, and the weak whimper turned into a pathetic, whispery whine, longing and desperate and begging and a deep rumble curled out from the older man’s chest, making Stiles limp and boneless and silent once more, head tilting back to bare his throat, eyes locked on the Alpha and awaiting his next move. A low, pleased note entered the soothing rumble, and the Alpha placed his fangs against that throat, before pulling back to lick it gently.

“Take the Bite, pup,” he murmured against Stiles throat, red eyes glowing. “Become a member of my Pack. We will _never_ leave you, pup. Not even in death,” he whispered, and Stiles felt more of the pain slide away, and weakly shifted under the Wolf, until his weak, trembling hand gripped just the barest edge of the Alpha’s clothing. The Wolf sat up carefully; red eyes on Stiles face, and the boy met those eyes and gave a slow, long sigh, and tilted his chin up, lowering his eyes, and making a soft, agreeing sound. “My name,” the Alpha growled quietly, “is Deucalion.” When Deucalion’s fangs slid through the flesh of his left shoulder, the pain of it was a relief compared to the agony his soul was tormented by.

And, as the wound healed over in less than ten minutes under the pleased caress of his new Alpha, something that had broken in his chest was replaced. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it was stronger, tighter, and Stiles slipped into sleep with a content sound as the pain fell lower and lower, until it was nothing more than a dull simmer in his bone marrow, sinking in there where it would probably remain for a long, _long_ time, but Stiles didn’t mind that.

He had Pack, now, and they would help him bear the pain.


	2. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than last chapter, and some added Tags, but, anyways, Enjoy! ^-^

**Chapter**

 

When Stiles next woke, the room was brighter, everything sharp and clear, and his brain struggled for a moment as it was bombarded with the brightness, the smells, the sounds, and the _feels_ of the room he was in, the hallway, the entire _floor_ he was on, and the floor above and beneath, and out onto the road nearby. For a few minutes, he could only stare, wide-eyed, up at the ceiling, making a soft, chocking sound as his mind struggled, jumping from sense to sense as it desperately tried to reconfigure itself to handle the new input.

“Stiles?!” His Dad’s voice, hoarse and exhausted, yelled from beside him, only it wasn’t a yell, and he twitched, stifling a whine at the sudden noise, before his Dad was scrambling for the door, calling for a doctor. Soon, the room was filled with more sounds and scents and movement that made Stiles twitch sporadically, head hurting at the abrupt stimulation after it had _just_ begun to settle itself. There was a light flashed in his eyes, strangers touching him, and, when his Dad’s hand gripped his, Stiles barely remembered not to squeeze as tightly as he could, because, he finally remembered, he wasn’t human anymore, wasn’t as weak, and, with the remembrance, came a sudden wave a soothing calm and energy from somewhere in his mind that whispered _Alpha_ and _Pack_ , and, with a shudder, he settled, utterly silent and still but for the occasional twitch, as the doctors and nurses checked him over.

He sipped the water his Dad offered and, with an exhausted sigh, managed to turn weakly onto his side, hand still curled in his Dad’s, and fall asleep, a _real_ sleep, for the first time in a long while.

The next time he woke, it was dark, and there are two Wolves in his room, whose scents confuse them, because they’re _Pack_ but _Alpha_ but not _His_ _Alpha_ … It makes him whine in confusion, and, suddenly, a woman’s face appears over his, shushing him softly, dark eyes glowing a soft red as she smiled faintly, thin fingers ghosting over his hair, rubbing her scent lightly against his skin as well.

“Easy, Pup,” she murmured, and Stiles settled, blinking up at her dazedly as her scent coiled through him. She was darkly tanned, with long, dark hair, and dressed in a nurses uniform. She crawled up onto the bed, all long, lean muscle and bare feet and gentle hands, and rubbed her face against his, making him whine and rub back, arms lifting to weakly wrap around her.

“Pack,” he whispered, voice hoarse and cracking in awkward places, and the growl she gave was nearly a purr as Stiles tentatively nuzzled her cheek and looked uncertainly over her shoulder at the other Wolf in the room. He was tall and balding, with a strange heaviness to his features that made Stiles think of bodyguards and MMA heavy-hitters. He was tall, well over six feet, and was dressed in scrubs like the Alpha female who was still thoroughly scent-marking Stiles, licking his neck now, which he willingly bared as he kept curious eyes on the silent Alpha watching them, muscled arms crossed as he leaned against the door.

“Don’t mind Ennis, Pup,” the Alpha Female murmured into his throat, reluctantly lifting away from him with a faint, fond smile, glancing over at the silent Alpha. “He’s not much for talking.” With another purr-like growl, she licked Stiles cheek and slid off him with an erotic stretch, smirking over at Ennis and making Stiles blink confusedly, when a strange, spicy-scent coiled through the air lightly from the muscled, silent Alpha, faint but telling. Stiles’ jumbled thoughts clicked on an identifier moments later, and recognized the scent for what must be lust, and filed the information away for later as he turned his eyes from Ennis to the Alpha Female and back again, curious.

“My name is Kali, little Pup,” she told him, Alpha Red fading from her eyes, and leaving them dark and lovely as she sashayed over to a chair and slid gracefully into it. “Welcome to the Pack,” she told him, and then pulled out a nail file and began to work on her human nails. As if it was some signal, Ennis pushed himself off the wall and dropped his hands to his sides, and stalked slowly over to Stiles, eyes glowing bright red as he suddenly towered over the temporarily bed-ridden teen. Stiles, eyes slightly wide, immediately tilted his head back and whined, which Ennis responded to with a low, thunderous growl that, while intimidating, was also soothing, and left Stiles boneless and quiet on the bed.

Immediately, the large Alpha leaned down, eyes still glowing and locked onto Stiles, before he licked a long, wet stripe up the exposed neck and lowered himself awkwardly onto the small bed. Stiles giggled weakly before he could stop himself, and Ennis snorted against his skin, lips twitching up wryly, before he settled his full weight over Stiles entirely, making the teen’s breath hitch and his eyes close as the heavy weight and warmth consumed his senses with _Safety_ and _Protection_ , making him boneless and nuzzling the Alpha with eager happiness, and he shifted without thought, feeling his face crunch awkwardly and hearing it, his mouth feeling almost too small as fangs filled it, and fur growing side-burns across his cheeks, nose flattening slightly and forehead changing strangely, senses growing stronger. He licked the Alpha’s cheek, tongue somehow bigger and flatter, and was licked in return. The hands he lifted to wrap in the Alpha’s scrub-top were clawed, and Stiles absently reminded himself to be careful and not poke holes in the Wolf’s skin of shirt, even as Ennis used one large, clawed hand to lift Stiles head up and press it firmly to the bend of his neck, flooding the newly turned Wolf’s senses with his smell and Aura.

After a few minutes, Ennis pulled back, cocking his head and eying Stiles consideringly, Alpha features melting away and leaving the decently handsome features of the man behind. After a few moments, he smirked, leaned down, and nuzzled their noses together, before he rose and left the bed, leaving Stiles shivering in the sudden lack of intense heat, and whining sadly. Kali was there, then, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“We’ll see you around, Pup,” she told him fondly, before the two of them slipped out the door and away, Stiles desperately listening to their heartbeats until they slipped out of range and, with a mournful sigh, he spent a few minutes concentrating on shifting back.

When he finally succeeded, he fell asleep, wistfully breathing in the scents of his Packmates as he did so, and dreamed of them and the Moon.


	3. Twin Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that people like this fic. ^-^

**Chapter**

“Here we go, Stiles,” the nurse said in a supposedly soothing voice, which grated on Stiles nerves, as she settled his wheelchair in the Recreation Room. “I’ll be back in a little bit with something to drink, okay? Does Coke sound nice?” Stiles gave a slow nod, and she smile, pressing a hand to his shoulder in a gentle pat, before leaving him to stare blankly into the nearby fish tank. He’d been stuck in the Rehabilitation Ward of the Beacon Hills Nursing Home for a week now, barely able to move or speak on a good day. Deucalion reassured him that, with time, he would be completely healed, but he was a new Wolf, and severely damaged from being Severed as a Human, so it would take a while, especially since the Pack could rarely visit, dealing with “Derek and his Pups”, who weren’t happy with the new Pack, and who had yet to come near Stiles, even when he’d been in his coma for two months (his Dad visited every day, at all hours, and talked to him, even when he thought Stiles was sleeping. Sometimes he cried, and sometimes he begged for forgiveness, and Stiles hated those times).

Glaring moodily at the fish as they aimlessly swam, Stiles shifted his eyes to Wolf, the bright copper glowing in his reflection, and growled in frustration, clenching his sudden claws under the edge of his pillowed armrests. The sound of his nurse and others walking towards him had him pulling his Wolf back below his skin, leaving him glaring silently at the stupid fish.

“Stiles,” his nurse, Janice, called after a gentle rap on the door that sounded like a hard bang to his sensitive ears. “You have some visitors!” The smell of two Alphas soaked in the smell of _Pack_ , and the smell of _his_ Alpha had his glare melting away and his head painfully turning to smile at them, Janice beaming in reply as she led Deucalion and two handsome teens into the room.

“There’s that smile! And here’s your Coke, sweetheart,” Janice declared, setting the decently-sized cup down, lid, straw, and all, on his little wheelchair-table. She then turned to Deucalion and the unknown teen Alphas, still smiling. “If he empties the cup, just poke your head out the door and ask for a refill, okay? And if he gets too tired, just call for one of us. He’s been doing really good lately, though, so I don’t think we’ll have to worry too much about that.” Deucalion smiled and thanked her, before allowing one of the boys to guide him into a chair next to Stiles, the other pulling more chairs over as the nurse finally left. They sat in silence, listening to her footsteps fade a ways away, before Stiles couldn’t hold back anymore, and felt the telltale crunch of his face shifting, a low, needy whine tearing softly from his throat, one hand weakly lifting towards Deucalion, who immediately caught it up in his own hand.

“Alpha,” Stiles sighed as the blind Wolf rose and obligingly scent-marked Stiles, who all but purred as he nuzzled back happily.

“He really is a pup, isn’t he?” One of the teen-Alpha’s asked with a snicker; Stiles huffed absently in his direction, copper-eyes narrowed happily as Deucalion licked his neck, which was happily bared.

“Be nice, Aiden,” Deucalion ordered casually, and Aiden made an aborted eye-roll, huffing instead and standing as Deucalion settled back in his chair. Stiles turned his copper Wolf eyes on the teen Alpha’s, taking in their almost-completely identical features, though one, the one without weird up-flipped bangs, was wearing a dark red shirt, while Aiden was wearing a tannish-green shirt. They were now standing side-by-side, heads cocked to the right, eyes red and glowing as they looked back at him. Then, suddenly, they were stalking closer, steps matching, _heartbeats_ matching, and surrounding Stiles, who’s eyes had gone wide as he released a long, low whine, and found himself being scent-marked by the two young, virile Alphas, his nose flooded with the smell of body wash, young males, and the after-scents of dozens of other equally young humans…

And hormones. Lots and lots of hormones.

“I’m Aiden,” the one on his left murmured into his neck, fangs nipping absently and making Stiles whimper, head falling weakly back, eyes wide and utterly Wolf, all human traces startled away by the sudden influx of scents and the Twins Auras.

“I’m Ethan,” his brother whispered, and snapped his teeth together right next to Stiles ear playfully, before licking said ear. The two of them pulled back in unison, with smug smirks curling their lips into rather attractive smiles.

“Good Puppy,” Aiden taunted, ruffling Stiles hair and snapping him out of the scent-induced haze. Stiles huffed and weakly swatted at the hand, not even able to raise his arm the high and giving a soft growl.

“Stop teasing the Pup, you two,” Deucalion ordered, voice still casual, but something undeniably _Alpha_ curled through the words, and the Twins heard and obeyed, moving back to their respective chairs. “Pup, Shift back.” This order was softened, still commanding but not with a threat hidden within. It was an Order, but it was patient, and Stiles immediately narrowed his and, with a soft sound, Shifted back into his human face, rolling his jaw at the now-familiar crunching of cartilage and bone. “Good boy,” Deucalion murmured with a small smirk; Stiles barely resisted the urge to beam and wiggle in place like the puppy they all called him, but even _he_ could smell the vanilla-smell of happiness that immediately wafted off of him. Aiden snorted and Ethan grinned, and Stiles sent them an irritated look but it was half-hearted at worst.

They _were_ Pack, after all…

Assholes, but still Pack.

“Stop glaring at the Twins and drink your soda, Pup,” Deucalion ordered with amusement, and Stiles huffed softly but obediently used his weakly-trembling hand to pull his soda closer to him on the wheelchair-table, leaning forward and trying to catch the straw without making a fool of himself. After a few seconds, Aiden, all taunting gone, gently reached over and moved the elusive bendy-straw to his mouth, allowing Stiles to catching it and sip at his ice-cold drink, eying the young Alpha with a grateful look, before dropping his eyes down and leaning back so he wouldn’t choke or accidentally spit up what was in his mouth. His muscle control was a shifty thing, now-a-days…

“You’ll be pleased to know that your old Packmate, McCall, is doing well,” Deucalion’s said, affectively breaking through Stiles thoughts. “According to Aiden and Ethan’s work inside the school, he’s sticking close to Hale’s Pup, Isaac, and the Huntress brat.”

“He’s not very happy to have us around, of course,” Aiden jumped in with a feral smirk, expression mirrored by his twin. “But, then again, he doesn’t have much of a choice.” Ethan shook his head, feral smirk transforming into an amused grin, almost boyish in his amusement.

“I don’t know what he hates more,” the boy said, leaning back confidently, hands folded behind his head. “The fact that we’re Wolves, or the fact that I’m dating Danny and you’re dating Lydia.” Stiles twitched, blinking twice at that, before frowning at them both and giving them as stern a look as he could.

“Like Danny,” he managed, words awkward and slightly slurred, voice cracking at different places. “’Nd Lydia. Hurt’em, I’ll rip your throat out. With m’teeth,” he added, and then ruined it with a wheezy snicker, even as the never-ending pain buried deep in his marrow flared brightly for a few milliseconds, making him shudder as his muscles cramped, face Shifting back and forth for a few seconds at the reminder of-

_(Derek)_

-his old Pack.

“Breath, Pup,” Deucalion’s voice and Aura forced the pain back, letting Stiles _breathe_ again, and, as he gasped for air in relief, Stiles felt himself fall more under that power, submitting something deep inside himself to the blind Alpha. Deucalion made the pain better instead of leaving him to lick his own wounds. He helped Stiles heal, but didn’t treat him like he was fragile glass. He had expectations for Stiles, and the young Wolf was ridiculously infatuated, he knew, with that calm belief. His tattered, duct taped soul thrived under that belief, and what remained of his _spark_ thrived as well.

“Drink your soda, Pup,” the Alpha ordered him gently; Stiles, with Aiden’s help, obeyed, and sat in content silence as the Twins pulled out their homework, and the sound of pens and pencils scratching and scraping against paper lulled him into a doze, occasionally sipping his soda. Nothing was said about his threat, and he probably wouldn’t be able to act on it anyways, but it didn’t matter anyways.

Smiling, Stiles let his eyes fall closed, and enjoyed the sensation of _Pack_ that thrummed around him, and the feel of his Alpha’s hand gently petting his own as the blind Wolf answered the Twins murmured questions patiently.

Sleep came swiftly with the smell of _protection_ , and the pain-driven nightmares stayed away for another night when his Packmates left before he closed his eyes.


	4. Brewing Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update~! Um, not sure if anyone is out of character, but I'm horrible at writing confrontation scenes because I'm horrible at arguing and usually avoid arguements... Enjoy???

**Chapter**

It took nearly six months before Stiles was released from the Rehab Center, wheelchair and walker in tow and his Dad insanely grateful for the help of Deucalion and his “Nephews”, as well as his “Cousin” Ennis and Kali, Ennis’ girlfriend (though Stiles knew that it was closer to “mate” than girlfriend, but it hadn’t quite reached that level of permanence, as the two were still in the courting stage, although they were closer to the end of that stage now than they had been when Stiles had first met them.). The Blaidd family, as they were called, had bought out a large two-story house and a stretch of land behind it at the edge of town.

As it was, the new school year was already in full swing, the January rains cold and irritating. Stiles stared silently at the raindrops that pelted the window on his side of the van as Ennis drove him and the Twins to school, the Twins arguing about whether or not there would be Lacrosse practice with a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. It had been mid-May of the year before when he had been Severed, and he was still recuperating. His Physical Therapist, Daniel, said he was doing very well, and that his exercises were slowly rebuilding the muscles that had atrophied during his coma, and his Speech Therapist, Jasmine, said he was doing much better as well…

Though, Ethan and Aiden had been helping in that regard, taunting and teasing him as he worked with them, until he was pink-faced with irritation and growling under his breath, snapping back insults as he tried to do his assigned workouts. Ennis was usually there, and, if the Twins went too far in their teasing, he was always ready to put them to work as well, running the two of them into the ground right next to Stiles, and impressive feat, considering that the two boys were _Alphas_ and Stiles was a mere Beta…

The car came to a stop, and Stiles blinked his eyes back into focus, finally registering the sound of many teenagers talking and their many different scents clashing, something he had instinctively filtered out, his already fast-paced mind compartmentalizing like a computer.

“Ready to go, Pup?” Aiden asked, grinning at Stiles as the Beta turned his head to nod and smile faintly back. Ethan was already out of the van and on Stiles side, sliding open his door and reaching in to “help” his brother pull the other teen’s wheelchair out and into the rain. Stiles huffed and made sure that his backpack was securely on the back of his chair, and that his walker was in its kangaroo-like pouch under said backpack, before he unlocked his wheels and carefully pushed himself forward and away from the edge of the car. Ennis came around the car and dragged his massive hand through Stiles inch-long hair, ruffling it gently as he handed the Twins their lunch money, and slipped Stiles his own money as well.

“Don’t tire yourself,” the animalistic-inclined Alpha grunted; Stiles smiled and nodded obediently, getting his hair ruffled again. Ennis shot the Twins a hard look, eyes ringed in red. “Don’t tease him. Or McCall.”

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Ethan complained, rolling his eyes dramatically as Aiden slid behind Stiles chair to wrap his hands loosely around the handles in the back, waiting to push the boy into the school. “We get it! Don’t pull on Pup’s tail, and don’t piss in McCall’s cheerios and rub his face in the fact that we’re bigger and better and everything. _Jesus_.”

“We’re not _children_ , you know,” Aiden chimed in with his own eye-roll, and Stiles snickered and earned himself an absent, light cuff on the head from the boy.

“Behave,” Ennis reiterated, looking utterly unimpressed, before he turned around and got back into the car.

“Say hi to Kali for me, please,” Stiles called softly, cheekily; he heard Ennis’ responding growl as the Alpha started the van, and Ethan and Aiden’s snickers as their Packmate drove away.

“Alright, c’mon, Scrappy,” Aiden said, and began to push Stiles towards the school.

“Does that make you Scooby-Doo or Shaggy?” the younger Wolf murmured back, settling back into his chair and glancing up at the boy with an amused look.

“I’m Scooby, _obviously_ ,” Aiden responded immediately, earning a disbelieving snort from his twin.

“Like hell you are,” Ethan replied. “ _Obviously_ you’re Velma!”

“Oh, _fuck_ no,” Aiden snapped, and the two began to bicker, even as their footsteps and heartbeats synchronized. Stiles just smiled and shook his head as they got closer and closer to the High School, focusing on his Packmates scents and heartbeats, strong in the back of his mind, as he slowly breathed through the cacophony of sounds, sights, smells, and _feels_ that oozed from the very _walls_ around them.

“Welcome back, Mr. Stilili…Stilish…,” the Vice Principle, Mr. Tyler, stumbled as he greeted them at the doorway; Stiles rolled his eyes slightly at the butchering of his last name, well-used to it.

“Stilinski,” the Twins corrected together as Stiles started to open his mouth and do just that. Stiles closed his mouth and blinked, and Mr. Tyler just bobbed his head with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Right, right! Well, all of your teachers have been informed of your situation and, if at any point you find yourself feeling unwell or out of breath or overwhelmed, you are allowed to go straight to the Nurses Office, with or without a pass.” Stiles inclined his head and murmured his thanks, and Aiden pushed him past the uncertainly fidgeting man, rather rudely but then again, Stiles had never really seen much point to the Vice Principle, who spent a majority of his time buying alcohol for college girls and ogling them to care much for the student body as a whole, let alone single members of the teenage mass.

“AP English with me up first, Pup,” Ethan murmured as they strolled through the hall purposefully, ignoring the looks and whispers which might as well have been shouts. Stiles blinked and turned a small frown towards the other teen.

“I’ve missed months, though,” he murmured back, confused. “Shouldn’t I have been held back or something?” Ethan shook his head, though it was Aiden that answered.

“You completed all your homework packets, and they’re probably feeling back for you or some shit, so you’ll be our year like you should have been, but a little behind. We’ll help you out, little puppy, don’t worry,” he smirked, and Stiles growled softly at him in irritation.

“Shut up, Velma,” Stiles snarked back, and earned himself a laugh from Ethan and an irritated growl from Aiden, before the grinning Alpha shoved his twin away towards his Biology II class, and took over pushing Stiles through the halls and into the correct classroom, setting his wheelchair beside Ethan’s own desk off to the side of the room. Danny appeared soon after, and smiled warmly at Stiles, eyes concerned.

“Welcome back, Stilinski,” he greeted warmly, and Stiles smiled back as they bumped fists over Ethan as the teen rolled his eyes and slung his arm with easy possessiveness over his boyfriends shoulder as Danny sat next to him at the two-person table, the handsome Hawaiian boy leaning against the Alpha’s side, unaware of the immediate, sub-sonic growl that was a Werewolf’s purr that had immediately erupted from Ethan’s chest. Stiles smiled at that, instinctively happy to see his Packmate so happy, before he shifted his focus back to the front of the room as the teacher stood, welcomed him back, and handed out a packet of worksheets to everyone so they could review for the Final Exam in two weeks.

Stiles diligently took notes on his nifty wheelchair table, and AP English passed like a dream. Danny joined him and Ethan again in AP History, and then he had AP French with Aiden. He had noticed the scents of his old-

_(Pack, family, siblings, HOME)_

-friends throughout the day, had found himself on the receiving end of Lydia’s consideration in French as the gorgeous redheaded genius had leaned absently into Aiden’s side, and had refused to meet Scott’s accusing eyes from across the hall as Aiden and Ethan sent the other Wolf smug smirks and challenging growls while they made a point of rubbing their scent into Stiles hair, until he’d finally gotten irritated with the pissing contest and swatted at their hands with an irritated growl of his own.

Now, however, it was lunch-time, and Stiles found himself being pushed into the line with Aiden in front of him and Ethan behind, his own Alpha Bodyguards (Guard Dogs, he’d mock under his breath, but Erika was two people in front of them, leaning inconspicuously out of the line and watching them with her cat-like eyes narrowed). He accepted his tray of food from Aiden with a murmur of thanks, and wheeled his way to the cash register to pay for it.

“Stiles!” Scott said, all but appearing at his side despite the sudden warning growls from the narrow-eyed Twins. Isaac wasn’t far behind, his doe-like expression sharpening with hostility and tensed muscles. “Are you feeling better?” Stiles stared up at his friend silently for a few seconds, before he slowly nodded and lowered his eyes to his tray, and tried to wheel away, the pain in his marrow spreading out a little and tightening the skin around his eyes and mouth in instinctive reaction. “I’m glad you’re okay, but, dude, why the hell are you with those guys?” Scott sent a suspicious glare at the Twins, who were so tense their muscles were bunching up obviously beneath their tight, Abercrombie shirts, and Danny had to place a hand gently between Ethan’s shoulder blades, looking between his boyfriend, Scott, and Stiles with a small frown on his handsome features.

“Their friends, Scott,” Stiles murmured in response, and continued to push his chair, until Scott scrambled in front of him, eyes wide with disbelief and confusion.

“Dude, since when are you friends with assholes?” he asked; Stiles felt his shoulders hunch as the Twins Alpha Auras spiked aggressively.

“Back off, McCall,” Aiden snapped, stepping up until he and Scott would have been nose-to-nose, had they not been parted by Stiles’ wheelchair. Stiles hunched up even more, anxiety curdling in his gut and his chest tightening as the pain shot up, slowly but surely.

“Aiden,” Ethan tried to interrupt, but Scott interrupted him, glaring at the twin angrily.

“Why don’t _you_ back the hell off, asshole!” Scott snapped. “Stiles would never willingly hand out with you douchebags, so why don’t you go fuck yourselves and leave him alone?!” Aiden snarled, barely restraining his Wolf, though a thin edge of red had begun to ring the caramel brown of his eyes.

“Maybe _Stiles_ changed his idea of who he should hang out with after you, your posse, and that _dick_ hurt him so bad! SO maybe you should take a good, hard look at yourself before you start giving orders, McCall,” Aiden hissed; Scott growled under his breath, shoulders hunching and fists forming.

“Aiden!” Ethan tried again, voice sharper, but, when Aiden started to look towards his brother, Scott spoke up once more.

“I would _never_ hurt Stiles,” he snarled himself. “ _None_ of us would!”

“Well you _did_!” Aiden spat back, teeth bared as his legs pressed tightly into Stiles wheels as he leaned closer to the teen. “You and your pathetic excuse of an Alpha _tore him apart._ We’re just putting him back together, when you couldn’t even bother to sweep up the pieces.” Scott’s eyes narrowed.

“What the fuck does Derek have to-” whatever he was going to say, though, was interrupted by Stiles, because, at _that name_ , the pain roared and slashed through his body like a thrashing serpent, making him choke as he nearby bit through his tongue, body seizing and eyes rolling in the back of his head. Faintly, above the scream of agony in his brain, he heard his name shouted, the sound of a scuffle, and then his nose was filled with Danny’s scent mixed with Ethan’s as the Hawaiian boy’s soft hands gently cupped his face, talking to him soothingly and telling him to breathe, to listen to his voice and try to take slow breaths, good Stiles, that’s good, one-in, two-out, one-in, two-out, just like that…

He came to, to the sight of Danny’s anxious face in front of his own, and the disgusting feeling of drool, snot, and tears on his face as the air in his lungs stuttered weakly in and out as the handsome boy continued to count each one rhythmically. Aiden and Ethan were at his sides now, a hand on each of his shoulders and holding onto his hands, breathing deep and slow in an exaggerated way as they copied Danny as well, heartbeats synced and soothing, even though their Aura’s were edged with anxiety. Stiles let out a slow, shaky breath, and weakly uncurled in his chair.

“M’srry,” he slurred, and grimaced as Ethan began to wipe his face gently clean with one of the baby wipes Stiles had in his bag just for this occasion. Stiles felt his cheeks flame in shame and closed his eyes, ducking his head down as Danny shushed him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for at all, Stiles,” the boy reassured him firmly, shooting a glare over his shoulder at the wide-eyed crowd, who quickly dispersed, though Stiles could still smell and hear that his old friends were still there, shifting unhappily nearby while the rest of the lunchroom went back to their meals with subdued chatter. “McCall should have backed off, and Aiden shouldn’t have let his temper get the better of him.” Now his glare was all for the twin, who hunched slightly and grimaced. “Now, come on. We’re going to eat lunch out on the bleachers, since the rain has finally stopped. The fresh air would probably do you some good, too,” Danny added, standing and picking Stiles forgotten tray up from where it had been moved during his seizure. Stiles nodded, and kept his eyes lowered and locked on his hands as they twisted in his lap, while Ethan grabbed the other trays and Aiden pushed his chair after Danny.

“I’m sorry, Pup,” Aiden mumbled, too quiet for anyone that wasn’t a Wolf to hear. Stiles silently reached back with one tremor-stricken hand, and weakly wrapped it around the boys own, closing his eyes briefly and letting out a shaky breath before patting the appendage and lowering his hand back into his lap before he leaned back in his chair and squinted up at the cloudy sky, breathing in the heavy smell of rain and wet earth, and the ozone-laden scent of the coming storm.

No one said being Pack would be easy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaidd is Welsh for Wolf, according to Google Translate... Or, well, one of the translations ^-^


	5. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: YOU MAY CRY WITH THIS CHAPTER (I did while writing it, my Roommates will vouch for it -_-)

**Chapter**

 

“Now lift your left foot,” Daniel coached smoothly, and Stiles, eyes narrowed and tight with strain and concentration, struggled to do so, hands white-knuckled as they tightened on the bars on either side of him, as he took another slow, painful step. Deucalion sat nearby, fingers tracing over his Braille copy of _Paradise Lost_ even as his sunglass-covered gaze remained locked on Stiles, his gaze a comforting weight on the panting Wolf’s shoulders as he struggled through his exercises.

“You’re doing well today, Stiles,” the blind Alpha said clearly, head tilting to the side. “You’ve gone as far as you did last week, and five minutes faster. That’s very good.” Stiles beamed, letting out a pleased, if tired, hum, at the praise of his Alpha.

“He’s progressing at an impressive rate,” Daniel agreed, his thin face curled into a warm, proud smile as he gripped the wide gait belt that was wrapped around the teens' thin waist, ready and able to catch him should Stiles iffy-strength give out on him, as it had many times before. “I’d bet that, by this time next week, he’ll have cut his record time in half, hands down.” Stiles had to stop himself from preening under all of the compliments, and smiled happily at the door as his Dad came through with Ennis and Kali, carrying boxes of pizza’s, while Ennis carried several bags of two-liters in one hand and an eighteen-pack of beer on his free shoulder. Kali sashayed in with the paper plates, plastic cups, and a bag of napkins. They greeted Deucalion and Daniel warmly as they set up the nearby tables for the party they were throwing for the Twins birthday, since they would be getting out of Lacrosse practice within the next half-an-hour and bringing their respective dates, too.

“Look at you!” Kali greeted Stiles, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple without hesitation, and Stiles beamed at her as she dragged her nails through his hair. Ennis stalked over and set his massive hand silently on Stiles head for a few seconds, before leaving to go and pick the Twins and their dates up. Kali went to the chair closest to Deucalion and immediately curled up after kicking off her shoes with a soft sigh. She’d gotten a job as an actual nurse, as had Ennis, and the two worked most of the school-day hours, and late on Saturdays, with Sundays off. Deucalion spent most of his time at home, bothering the local Pack, or talking with Peter, who had a strange sort of truce with the Alpha of Alphas.

“We’re almost done,” Daniel informed the room at large with a fond smile, before he spent the next twenty minutes coaching Stiles through the remainder of his exercises, which included sitting down and tossing lightly weighted bean-bags ten feet away at a basket which, with his weak muscles, was a lot harder than it sounded, honestly.

“Alright, let’s stop here,” Daniel said decidedly, smiling as he helped Stiles into his wheelchair and Kali handed him a semi-cold can of Coke. “You’re definitely improving, and I can tell you’ve been doing your exercises, which is great, Stiles. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, same time, and we’ll see how far you’ve progressed again, okay?” He ruffled the boy’s sweat-soaked hair with a gentle smile. “You take care of yourself, okay, and get a good night’s sleep tonight, understand?” Stiles, still trying to catch his breath, nodded with a weak grin as he slumped exhaustedly in his chair, body aching. Daniel bid farewell to everyone, and left. As his Dad and Kali started setting everything up for the incoming horde, Stiles leaned his head against the back against is chairs pillow, sweaty hair leaving behind wetness and the heavy scent of his own sweat and pain and sickness that would later irritate his nose, he knew, but at the moment he just relaxed and listened to the world around him without a care.

He must have dozed off, because he soon found himself blinking blearily at the grinning faces of the Twins, to close for comfort, concern hidden deep under mischeivous eyes as they crowded into his space, filling his nose with their scents.

 _Pack, Young, Strong, Alphas-not-ALPHA, grass, dirt, sweat, not-Pack, Danny, Lydia, Isaac, happy, worry, amused, proud, hungry, old arousal_...

So many scents, clinging to them, that Stiles ADHD coiled and latched onto random ones until he'd gotten them memorized, skipping mostly over the random after-smells of the rest of the school and Lacrosse team.

“You awake now, Scrappy?” Aiden teased gently, and Stiles let out a shaky breath, smiling weakly and bobbing his head in agreement.

“Good,” Ethan announced, gently ruffling a hand through Stiles sweat-hardened hair, sending up a surge of the Beta's scent that made Stiles simultaneously wrinkle his nose and relax his tense shoulders as _PACK_ smells curled through his body soothingly.

“If he's tired, you should have let him sleep,” Danny's voice said scoldingly, but there was the smell of amusement mixed with his concerned scent, and Danny smiled up at the boy when he firmly pushed the Twins away, shooing them towards the pizza-laden tables and Aiden quickly went to Lydia's side, smelling happier the closer he got to the genius. Danny turned his focus back to Danny though, giving the handsome boy a weak high-five when Danny offered his palm, still smiling.

“How y'been, D'nny,” he slurred out, tongue feeling thick and heavy and weirdly dry-not-dry in his mouth, like he'd been chewing on his shirt in his sleep or something (which was totally a possibility, considering how much of an Oral Fixation he's had since he was, oh, _born_ ). Danny seemed to understand anyways, because he dragged a chair over and sat down, telling Stiles all about lacrosse practice and some idiots in class. Ethan reappeared quickly with a cup of soda for Danny, and a small cup of fruit smoothie for Stiles (with spill-proof lid and bendy straw, of course). He'd also come with a plate of plain cheese pizza, which he began to neatly cut into non-choking sizes while Danny continued to talk, more than Stiles has ever heard him say outside of a debate class or that one day back in fourth grade when Danny had gotten up n front of the class and made a rather stern speech about how bullying was wrong and how gender-specific stereotypes were stupid.

Stiles, smiling and nodding along with the boy's chatting, slowly sipped his smoothie, letting it sooth his tired muscles and dry throat, before nodding his thanks to Ethan when the twin gently placed his paper-plate of safe-sized pizza bites on his little table. Murmuring a quiet agreement to some complaint Danny had just made about Greenberg, he slowly ate his meal piece by piece. They were soon joined by Aiden, Lydia, and Kali, the female Alpha lazily painting her fingernails with a neat clear coat and adding in a sarcastic comment every once in a while, but otherwise sitting back and supervising.

After an hour and another whole slice of pizza (and three more smoothies, because those were delicious, and Ennis had magic-smoothie-making Alpha Powers, Stiles swears), Stiles was zoning out and slumping deeper into his chair, before Ennis announced that he would take Stiles to his usual room on the ground floor of the Blaidd home. His Dad joined them, and stood uncertainly in the doorway as the large Alpha smoothly moved Stiles from his chair to the bed with a neatly executed pivot-turn transfer. Once he was safely in the bed, the Sheriff took over, puttering about and helping Stiles strip out of his clothes while Ennis neatly and professionally cleaned the leather of Stiles chair with disinfectant wipes that smelled horrible but were far more tolerable than the disgusting things that had been used at the nursing home. A thin sheet was draped over Stiles naked form, hiding his frail, sickly body from sight.

“There,” his Dad said quietly, before he perched gently on the side of the bed and began to soothingly was his skin with a washrag, Ennis disappearing for a few second, reappearing form the bathroom with a basin of warm water and some towels. Stiles just closed his eyes and relaxed silently as his Dad and Ennis took different sides, gently cleaning sweat and grime from his body. He shivered faintly from the cooling dampness left on is skin, even has they patted him dry with soft towels, and tried not to grimace in self-disgust as they works. God, he was so fucking _weak_ , he couldn't even bathe himself most days! What a pathetic Werewolf he made, weak as a baby and needing others to feed him, bathe him, clothe him, even fucking _change his diaper_ (and no matter how many times the Nurses called in a 'brief', or how understanding his Packmates were, it didn't stop it from being a damn _diaper_ ).

Goddammit, he missed being able to move on his own! He missed running and talking and eating and playing video games and, and!

Suddenly, he found himself shaking and sobbing, turning his face to hide it in his father's thigh as the Sheriff quickly stopped what he was doing to comfort him, letting Stiles cling to him and sob like a broken child, feeling even worse because, god, he was even more pathetic, clinging o his Daddy like a baby, when one of his Alpha's was in the room,still and silent as a shadow.

“God Stiles, sh, baby, it's okay,” his Dad whispered, voice tinged with a heartbroken hoarseness, curling his body protectively around Stiles slowly curling form, as if that would somehow protect the sobbing boy. Stiles smelled the helplessness on him, and that made him sob harder, because it just prove how broken he was, his Dad didn't even know what to do or how to help. God, it was like the week after his mother had d-died all over again, only then he'd had to be so strong, because his Dad had needed him. It had only been when he was alone, that he had allowed himself to curl up on the floor sobbing with Mom's favorite blouse pressed against his face.

Now there was no blouse or locked door to hide in, no shower to cover the evidence so he could pretend to be fine. There was only his Dad's jean-clothed thigh, the strong smell of his soap and deodorant and the faint smell of the whiskey he'd had three days ago. The smell of gunpowder and metal and the beer and pizza he'd had just an hour before. Just aging body and mixed emotions and-

 _Love, family, shared-pain_.

-just, the smell of his _Dad_.

“Daddy,” he whispered, broken-edged and desperate, and his Dad made a low sound of desperate pain before he ended up lying down with Stiles, curling around him and pulling the Beta all but under him, instinctively trying to put his body between Stiles and the pain and any threats. Ennis, a forgotten shadow, silently moved around the room, collecting the dirty clothes and cloths, and taking away the water-filled basin to dump it in the sink. After a few minutes, the sound of the sink let Stiles foggy mind know that the Alpha was washing his hands, before he silently left, closing the door softly behind him.

Stiles calmed slowly, body loosening as his Dad clung to him and he clung to his Dad, and rested his head over the steady, strong beat of the Sheriffs heartbeat. He remained awake for hours, long after that steady sound had slowed with sleep, as had several other heartbeats in the house. A few were the smooth rhythm of the conscious, however, and he listened to them move around. Listening to Ennis worked out quietly in his room. To Kali as she hummed softly while relaxing in the bathtub, reading a book. As Deucalion moved things around in the living room, before the Alpha settled on the couch.

Moments later, the gentle strum of a guitar curled from where the older Werewolf was settled, making Ennis still and Kali quiet, and Stiles opened his eyes to stare blankly at his fathers chest. The gentle speeding of two synced heartbeats let him know that the Twins were awake now as well.

No doubt well-aware of his silently attentive audience, Deucalion continued to play, soft, low notes and sighing high notes making a soothing melody that had tense, cramped muscles Stiles hadn't even been _aware_ of, relax and go loose. His Alpha continued to play for a good hour, every Wolf in the house hanging on every note, until, finally, he allowed the tune to slowly echo of into the silence as it ended, leaving one final, gentle vibration behind, sinking into Stiles bones and pushing the constant pain there down like the gentle-yet-firm hand of a Master to their Pet.

“Sleep, Pup,” he ordered gently, quietly, and Stiles sighed as he closed his eyes, snuggling against his father again, uncaring of his still-naked state or the sheet that was all that covered him.

“Yes, Alpha,” he murmured, and sighed again at the low, approving rumble of a growl that echoed from every Wolf in the house, a subsonic vibration that would be unheard by every human.

With a small smile, Stiles relaxed under his Dad's comforting warmth, and fell asleep to those vibrations, Pack surrounding him as he obeyed his one, _true_ Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, this chapter started out as a happy-content-recovery-update and got away with me I AM SORRY (not sorry...)


	6. Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my best friend, Sammi, who took her sweet ass time in actually READING something I wrote.

**Chapter**

It had been two weeks since he had started school again, and Stiles had finally gotten the Twins to back off just enough that they didn't insist on one of them or their Other Halves following him to the bathroom. He loved his Alphas, no matter how irritating, exasperating, or just Jackson-sized proportions of _dick_ they could be at times, and Danny was always awesome, but being alone with Lydia made his instincts quiver and he was constantly torn between giving her his throat and barring his teeth.

Not exactly something that helped keep his seizures or Wolfy side at heel, you know?

But now here he was, slowly, but steadily, making his way back from the restroom, using his walker to carefully shuffle down the hallway and listening to the entire school chatter. He was about half-way to his AP History class, when his eyes wandered to the wall of Class pictures. It was one of those timeline setups, where each section was a different Year's "Outstanding Acts" information, such as big tournament wins or awards, and he amused himself while shuffling along by finding names of people he knew, slowly working his way up the timeline and closer to the year before his "Incident", which was the last posting.

However, when the Class of 2005's picture came up, his eyes were unerringly drawn to a single name, to a single, picture, and the fire in his bones rose like a viper to sink its fangs of poisonous agony into his nerves.

' _Derek Hale (15), 5-time member of the A-Honor Roll, Member of the Student Government, and Voted Best Smile of the Year!'_

Stiles had a blank, brief moment of wondering at the fact that Derek could _smile_ like he was in his picture, bright and bashful and _beautiful_ , before the pain roared through him and made him drop to the ground like a stoned lemming, choking on his own spit as his muscles convulsed and spasmed, eyes rolling as he thrashed, knocking his walker aside and trying not to scream. There was nothing but the color of black-speckled gray as he struggled to _breathe._

To breathe through the pain and the seizure and the _memories—_

_(A snort of laughter, green-gray eyes, beautiful eyes, sharp, angry, glowing red, "Not Pack" pain, darkness, pleasepleasePLEASE)_

—when suddenly, he's no longer flailing, unanchored through the pain and terror and uncontrollable movement. There are hands, two pairs, on him, the larger pair helping move his body, the smaller pair holding his face, the smell of strawberries and ice and the smell of _Not-Pack_ Wolves and he snarls, but the two murmuring voices that are nearly drowned out by the _poundpoundpound_ of his heart croon and sooth.

He's limp and ill and crying when the pain finally relinquishes its hold, and, what felt like hours had only been minutes, and his still-weak body is being cradled between the familiar expanse of Boyd's chest and Erika's hands are cradling his face with such a dark, _knowing_ look in her eyes even as she leans her forehead against his own, sweat-drenched one, a crooning growl low in her throat.

"Boyd, keep Batman steady while I go get a teacher and one of those mutts he runs with," The girl ordered; Stiles vaguely felt the arms around him tighten briefly, and felt the small movement of air that was Boyd nodding. He whined, weak, wet, _broken_ , as the she-wolf stroked a tender hand down his no-doubt disgusting face (Stiles could, even now, feel the revolting mix of drool, snot, tears, and sweat covering his face and dripping down his neck, and the only solace he took was that the acrid scent of urine wasn't accompanying it for once, because there had, thankfully, been nothing in the tank when the "episode" had struck). Erika pulled her hand away reluctantly, and then she was gone, darting down the hallway and Stiles felt almost like he couldn't _breathe_ and _where was she going, why was she leaving, not again, please, no—_

A low, rumbling growl in his ear forced him to still his racing thoughts as best as he could, whimpering as Boyd carefully shifted him so that his weak neck muscles could go limp, letting his head loll on the large boys shoulder.

"She still has nightmares," The taciturn boy told him in a low rumble, quiet and somber as one large arm lifted away from Stiles chest, to stroke down the side of his head, cradle his neck, and return, petting, soothing, calming the younger Beta down with surprising skill. "Memories of being helpless and unseeing and abandoned on the ground to be laughed at or picked up when it was convenient and not funny anymore. Of assholes flashing lights in her eyes and mocking her when her body lost control. So, if anyone knows what's happening, what you're feeling right now, she does." Stiles choked on a weak sob and lolled his head enough to bury it exhaustedly into the larger Beta's neck, greedily gasping in air that was scented by his friend and former Packmate, fresh tears beginning to leak down his cheeks as the sound of rushing footsteps and the soft squeaking glide of his wheelchair began to rapidly approach, the familiar sound of Ethan's heartbeat reaching for him along with his young Alpha's Aura, making Stiles go limp.

"You're not alone," Boyd murmured into Stiles sweat-drenched hair, and Stiles closed his eyes, and wept weakly as he let the world fade out.

Afterwards, he couldn't quite remember what happened. He remembered being rushed to the hospital, of his Dad and his Alphas all visiting, the scent of their worry like the smell of mushrooms, loamy and damp and earthy in his nose as he sipped water and dozed.

Of the hesitant, uncertain form of Mrs. McCall in the doorway, asking his Dad how he was and if she could come in. Of the two of them leaving together and Scott hovering in the doorway, nervous and upset and reeking of the thick, mildew scent of guilt and the rancid tinge of fear, before the familiar Aura of Kali was there, leading him away and out of Stiles temporarily depleted Hearing range.

Of His Alpha's Aura soothingly covering him as Deucalion took a shift in watching over him, and the sound of the pages turning in his book (He was reading the original Jurassic Park book, by Michael Crichton, this time) and the occasional crooning growl that was so low Stiles could only pick it up by _focusing_.

He remembers being awake enough that when Danny and Lydia joined Aiden and Ethan in visiting, he managed to weakly fist-bump the concerned Hawaiian boy, was able to _see_ the dark worry in his pretty eyes lighten a bit as he offered a half-hearted smile. Lydia watched him with sharp, assessing eyes, darting over his still-frail body consideringly, before she had stalked forward and settled one small, delicate hand against his throat, feeling his pulse and claiming him all in one motion, and Stiles felt his torn instincts settle that much more under the move, sighing out as he settled to doze.

It took three days before he'd recovered enough to be released, his worse seizure yet, brought on by—

_(Alpha, Derek, PLEASE!)_

—lack of his Alphas presence and the abnormally long time it had taken to calm back down. He was home-bound for a further three days, his Dad puttering anxiously around him, asking questions about his care and learning how to do things himself under Ennis's surprisingly patient hands, hands that were firm but gentle as they moved Stiles around and helped him settle.

Kali would come straight to him after work, without even taking her shoes off, and stroke a hand over his head, set her cheek next to his, and just breath in his scent, reassuring herself that he wasn't getting worse.

Aiden and Ethan and Danny and Lydia visited every day after school, bringing him his homework and surrounding him with the energy and chatter and acting as normal as possible around him, something he found himself craving after the almost condescendingly soothing voices of the doctors and nurses, after the smell of mushrooms had filled the air so long that he'd worried that an actual fungus was beginning to grow.

At the end of his temporary banishment, however, he found himself being wheeled into the school by Danny, and there, standing, waiting for him, were Boyd and Erika, as inseparable and steady as they'd always been since the Bite and, in a flash of blond with a teeth-baring grin, his Catwoman had bound forward to all but snuggle her face against his, ignoring the low snarls of his Alpha Packmates.

"Brucie~!" She sang, leaning back to peer at his face intensely while she offered a seductive smirk. "It's _rude_ to leave a lady waiting, you know," she purred, dragging her nails up his arms, ghosting over his neck to stroke into his soft, almost-fluffy hair, and Stiles managed to smile weakly, uncertainly, even as his shoulder relaxed.

"Well, Selina, it's a good thing you're no lady, isn't it?" He spoke, carefully, slowly, working hard not to slur, and it was worth it, to see the shadows in her eyes lighten as she playfully pouted and flounced away with a cute 'Hmph!' noise of fake insult, to sprawl across her boyfriends back and shoulders. Boyd merely smirked, easy and relaxed, even as his dark eyes raked first over Stiles form, and then over the three males at his back, Lydia having gone on ahead of the three earlier.

"You good, Stilinski?" He asked, arching a brow, and Stiles stared at him, silent and considering, before deciding that he and his Wolf could be strong in this, at least, and offered the larger Beta a smirk.

"That's what they say," he offered back, earning a sharp laugh from Erika and an amused snort from Boyd, a groan from Aiden and a laugh from Ethan as Danny just sighed fondly and stroked his hand over Stiles head affectionately, having picked up on how all of his Pack did it (Unknowingly including himself in their Scent, something that made Ethan all but giddy with smugness, enough that Kali had gotten Ennis to work the teenager through his paces, his brother soon joining him for his mocking while Stiles had remained, curled against His Alpha's side, watching from the safety of the couch).

"We have class," the responsible boy reminded, and the group moved as one, the two Beta's effortlessly sliding into the group with Erika's witty sarcasm and playful flirting counteracted by Boyd's calm, steady silence and Stiles took a slow, deep breath and smiled faintly to himself.

It was good to have his—

_(Packmates, Family, HOME)_

—Friends back, even if there were still a few missing.

Maybe, just maybe, in time, those friends would come back too, and the jagged wounds in his Soul could get a little better, a little less sharp.

Stiles looked forward to that day, but, for now, he was content to listen to his old and new Pack get along, trading insults and jokes and information, with him in the center, surrounded, _grounded_ , by it all…

Smiling the whole time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so, I did a bit of research for this chapter so I could get things right. Derek is Six Years Older than Stiles, who is Sixteen in Season One. Season One took place in 2011. This means Stiles Stilinski was born on April 8th, 1995, and that Derek was born, according to Canon, on December 25th, and would put him in the year 1989. In the current season, Stiles is 18 and Derek is 24, which means, by Canon, Derek is currently 22/23. Now, according to canon, the Hale Fire took place 6 years before Season one (Which is, again, 2011) making it happen in 2005, two/three years before Derek would have graduated, and so he wouldn't have shown up in any of the year books or anything for his Graduating Class in Beacon Hills because he would have already fled with Laura, you see?
> 
> I did my research!


End file.
